His eyes set upon you as you enter his lair.
A cold stone vault at the foot of the stair.
Like some vision from an evil dream.
Yet none can wake you, or hear your scream.

You've wandered deep into the realm of the dead.
Under its eyes you feel the foul dread.
Iron hard grip of the gossamer strand.
You forfeit your life when you enter his land.

One careless move, helplessly stuck.
Thrashing and crying, you've run out of luck.
A flashing of fangs, coldness creeps in.
Unliving yet conscious, the feasting begins.

His whispering laugh.
Chills to the bone.
He's ruled here for ages.
On a silvery throne.

Hanging there limply in the realm of the dead.
Visions of home hang in your head.
Never to leave, give a whimpering cry.
You're trapped in the web, here will you die.

Valusia's Crown, cut from Borna's head.
Atlantean son, barbarian bred.
Once savage free, then Lemurian slave.
Red Slayer's rise, to fill the old king's grave.

Serpent blood spilt, on the Topaz Throne.
An ageless foe, from a time unknown.
Heavy soul, plays the role of King.
Hard his will, grim the song he sings.

Slave to tradition, oh long ages old.
The galley's hard chains had not so strong a hold.

Deep in the mirror, lies a sweet relief.
Feline whispers and murder in my sleep.
Thurian age, its doom not long borne.
A savior to kings from when time was torn.

Once the masses hailed, the barbarian king.
Now for tyrant new dead, the balladier does sing.
The door breaks in, battle ensues.
Murderers laid low, by this axe I rule.

Ancient terror, of the snows.
Wyrm of ice, where the north wind blows.
Hollow song, and alien form.
Frozen death, its primeval storm.

Waves of cold. Chill your veins.
Haunting eyes drive you insane.

Bone yard atop the world.
Oublet of ice, song as its lure.
Palace of skulls who came before.
Ice worm, song is its lure.

Simple fool, you come when I call.
Roused my anger. Invade my sacred hall.
Fiery wheel, splits the cold.
Cimmerian howl, makes him bold.

White hot axe splits the air.
Yakhamar dies, in the ice worm's lair.
Palace of skulls who came before.
Ice worm, song is its lure.

Blackend pools, obscured designs inside your mind.
On every breath, another lie to hide and blind.
The sight of those you'd name your closest friends.
Behind those eyes lies a maze that has no end.

Every smile cloaks your obscene face.
A vile form, a beast displaced.
Deep inside you... rotted soul.
Lies dreams and sights that take a gruesome toll.

You know the truth, yet even now you scoff and lie.
These sins will haunt your wretched soul until you die.
Ruined lives, what you've left in your awful wake.
Your twisted arts wrought a thing foul and fake.

Every smile cloaks your obscene face.
Your vile form a living disgrace.
Deep inside your rotted soul.
Lie dreams and sights, hidden far below.

In the Liars eyes the face of fear.
On the Liars tongue a sadist song.
In the Liars heart a blackend pool.
In the Liars mind a tale to be told.

Every smile cracked with rotten teeth.
Subhuman touch belies the fiend beneath.
Inside is nothing a shameless void.
You don't care about all you've destroyed.

The blood dawn begins.
Vermin must all die.
We need this land cleansed.
Before the sun quits the sky.

Our home is barren.
Christ's lands are ripe.
Oh they joy of the plunder.
On lambs blood we dine.

Ride and kill. Guns and steel.

Rape them and slay them. In the name of Allah.
Glorious sons of Ishamael. We heed Khartoum's call.
So we burn them and maim them. In the name of Allah.
Bastard sons of Abraham. We heed our father's call.

Tens of thousands are dead.
One hundred thousand more.
The brotherhood all rides.
Slashing and raping evermore.

Submit to Allah.
Else your women: our whores.
Soon to cry in the blood.
On the sands of Darfur.

On bleeding knees they scream and cry.
Vultures circle as they die.
The horde rides in; blood bath begins.

And the eyes of the world they are dimmed.
The lambs all die; in the blood they cry.
Wasted; forgotten in the sands of Darfur.

At long last now I know that though I've had victory over every foe the hard price of power was yet to be paid.
Patient hands of fate, they can't be stayed.
War and lust are all I've known; men felled like wheat when the heather is sewn.

Merlin! Call your dragon to weave me a mist.
I cannot fall like this gutted as a pig in the mud.
None shall wield Excalibur, none but me.
I've driven the blade, that bites to the bone.
To kill and be king and to die all alone.

Uther, you learned too late.
Your lust undid you.
And what was borne of it's mine.
The King and land are one.
You learned too late.
You were only a butcher.

I look around and see that I'm not in some machine,
but surrounded by machines with wheel and gear.
Who dance around it seems to tiny whim and futile scream.
They live their very lives slaves to fear.

Futile grasping hands are yearning for their false plans a million lies behind each grinning face.
Piss tears fill hollow eyes for each dream that slowly dies.
And my pains to satisfy their hungry need, in this machine.

I'm not falling down today, not falling down to die.
Won't see my tears when the die is cast.
Because I know my face and I know how victory tastes.
Sweet it is but the pleasure never lasts. In this machine, no.

I look around and see that I'm not in some machine,
but surrounded by machines with wheel and gear.
Piss tears fill lifeless eyes for each dream that dies.
And my pains to satisfy your hungry need, in this machine.

Beyond the bounds of time and space.
Flowing eternal in that realm beyond.
Past the river black as the grave.
Lies Dark Valley home of shadow and fear.
Sad life spent on its sullen shore.
Midst ruins of an age that never was.
You lived apart in that hollow dark.
With a heart as heavy as stone.

Death, it came in dreams.
Haunting while you slept.
And you walked alone.
Forever at war.
Had you lived before.
Will you live again.
To see the failing of our doomed race.
Stretching back through time.
Hurling on towards end.
Will you ever know our ultimate fate.
Or do you rest in that valley dark.
Beyond the river forever more.

Robert E. Howard's "Lines Written in the Realization That I Must Die"

"The Black door gapes and the Black wall rises;
Twilight gasps in the grip of Night.
Paper and dust are the gems man prizes-
Torches toss in my waning sight.

Drums of glory are lost in the ages,
Bare feet fail on a broken trail-
Let my name fade from the printed pages;
Dreams and visions are growing pale.
Twilight gathers and none can save me.
Well and well, for I would not stay:

Let me speak through the stone you gave me:
He never could say what he wished to say.
Why should I shrink from the sign of leaving?
My brain is wrapped in a darkened cloud;
Now in the night are the sisters weaving
For me a shroud.

Towers shake and the stars reel under,
Skulls are heaped in the Devil's fane;
My feet are wrapped in a rolling thunder,
Jets of agony lance my brain.

What of the world I leave forever?
Phantom forms in a fading sight-
Carry me out on the ebon river
Into the Night."